The Huntress Rider: Part One
by Tim46billion
Summary: When Ruby finds a polished yellow stone in the forest, she thinks it's the lucky discovery of a poor farm girl. But when the stone brings a Dragon hatchling, Ruby soon realizes she has stumbled upon a legacy as old as the Kingdom itself. With only an ancient sword and the advice of a storyteller for guidance, Ruby must navigate a Kingdom ruled by a Queen whose evil knows no bounds.
1. Chapter 1

Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that would change the world. A tall Shade lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked human except for his crimson eyes and maroon scorpion tail.

He blinked in surprise. The message had been correct: they were here. Or was it a trap? He weighed the odds, then said icily, "Spread out; hide behind trees and bushes. Stop whoever is coming… or die."

Around him shuffled twelve Urgals with short swords and round iron shields painted with black symbols. They resembled men with bowed legs and thick, brutish arms for crushing. A pair of twisted white horns grew above their white, armored heads. The monsters hurried into the brush, grunting as they hid. Soon the rustling quieted and the forest was silent again.

The Shade peered around a thick tree and looked up the trail. It was too dark for any human to see, but for him the faint moonlight was like sunshine streaming through the trees; every detail was clear and sharp to his searching gaze. He remained unnaturally quiet, a long pale sword in his hand. A wire-thin scratch curved down the blade. The weapon was thin enough to slip between a pair of ribs, yet stout enough to hack through the hardest armor.

The Urgals could not see as well as the Shade; they groped like blind beggars, fumbling with their weapons. An owl screeched, cutting through the silence. No one relaxed until the bird flew past. Then the monsters shivered in the cold night; one snapped a twig with his heavy boot. The Shade hissed in anger, and the Urgals shrank back, motionless. He suppressed his distaste – they smelled like fetid meat – and turned away. They were tools, nothing more.

The Shade forced back his impatience as the minutes became hours. The scent must have wafted far ahead of its owners. He did not let the Urgals get up or warm themselves. He denied himself those luxuries, too, and stayed behind the tree, watching the trail. Another gust of wind rushed through the forest. The smell was stronger this time. Excited, he lifted a thin lip on a snarl.

"Get ready," he whispered, his whole body vibrating. The tip of his sword moved in small circles. It had taken many plots and much pain to bring himself to this moment. It would not do to lose control now.

Eyes brightened under the Urgals' thick brows, and the creatures gripped their weapons tighter. Ahead of them, the Shade hears a clink as something hard struck a loose stone. Faint smudges emerged from the darkness and advanced down the trail.

Three white horses with riders cantered toward the ambush, their heads held high and proud, their coats rippling in the moonlight like liquid silver.

On the first horse was an elf with pointed ears and elegantly slanted eyebrows. His build was slim, but strong, like a rapier. A powerful bow was slung on his back. A sword pressed against his side opposite a quiver of arrows fetched with swan feathers.

The last rider had the same fair face and angled features as the other. He carried a long spear in his right hand and a dagger at his belt. A helm of extraordinary craftsmanship, wrought with amber and gold, rested on his head.

Between these two rode a platinum-haired elven lady, who surveyed her surroundings with poise. Framed by long white locks, her deep blue eyes shone with a driving force. Her clothes were unadorned, yet her beauty was undiminished. At her side was a sword, and on her back was a long bow with a quiver. She carried in her lap a pouch that she frequently looked at, as if to assure herself that it was still there.

One of the elves spoke quietly, but the Shade could not hear what was said. The lady answered with obvious authority, and her guards switched places. The one wearing the helm took the lead, shifting his spear to a reader grip. They passed the Shade's hiding place and the frost few Urgals without suspicion.

The Shade was already savoring his victory when the wind changed direction and swept toward the elves, heavy with the Urgal's stench. The horses snorted with alarm and tossed their heads. The riders stiffened, eyes flashing from side to side, then wheeled their mounts around and galloped away.

The lady's horse surged forward, leaving her guards far behind. Forsaking their hiding, the Urgals stood and released a stream of black arrows. The Shade jumped out from behind the tree, raised his right hand, and shouted, "Garjzla!" _Light!_

A red bolt flashed from his palm toward the elven lady, illuminating the trees with a bloody light. It struck her steed, and the horse toppled with a high-pitched squeal, plowing into the ground chest-first. She leapt off the animal with inhuman speed, landed lightly, then glanced back for her guards.

The Urgal's deadly arrows quickly brought down the two elves. They fell from the noble horse, blood pooling in the dirt. As the Urgals rushed to the slain elves, the Shade screamed, "After her! She is the one I want!" The monsters grunted and rushed down the trail.

A cry tore from the elf lips as she saw her dead companions. She took a step towards them, then cursed her enemies and bounded into the forest.

While the Urgals crashed through the trees, the Shade climbed a piece of granite that jutted above them. From his perch he could see all of the surrounding forest. He raised his hand and uttered, "Istalrí boetk!" _Broad fire!_ and a quarter-mile section of the forest exploded into flames. Grimly he burned one section after another until there was a ring of fire, a half-league across, around the ambush site. The flames looked like a molten crown resting on the forest. Satisfied, he watched the ring carefully, in case it should falter.

The band of fire thickened, contracting the area the Urgals to search. Suddenly, the Shade heard shouts and a coarse scream. Through the trees he saw three of his charges fall in a pile, mortally wounded. He caught a glimpse of the elf running from the remaining Urgals.

She fled toward the craggy piece of granite at a tremendous speed. The Shade examined the ground twenty feet below, then jumped and landed nimbly in front of her. She skidded around and sped back to the trail. Black Urgal blood dropped from her sword, staining the pouch in her hand.

The horned monsters came out of the forest and hemmed her in, blocking the only escape routes. Her head whipped around as she tried to find a way out. Seeing none, she drew herself up with regal disdain. The Shade approached her with a raised hand, allowing himself to enjoy her helplessness.

"Get her."

As the Urgals surged forward, the elf pulled open the pouch, reached into it, and then let it drop to the ground. In her hands was a large, sunshine-yellow stone that reflected the angry light of the fires. She raised it over her head, lips forming frantic words. Desperate, the Shade barked, "Garjzla!" _Light!_

A ball of red flame sprang from his hand and flew toward the elf, fast as an arrow. But he was too late. A flash of white light briefly illuminated the forest, and the stone vanished. Then the red fire smote her and she collapsed.

The Shade howled in rage and stalked forward, flinging his sword at a tree. It passed halfway through the trunk, where it stuck, quivering. He shot nine bolts of energy from his palm – which killed the Urgals instantly – then ripped his sword free and strode to the elf.

Prophecies of revenge, spoken in a wretched language only he knew, rolled from his tongue. He clearly cheddar his thin hands and glared at the sky. The cold stars stared back, unwinking, otherworldly watchers. Disgust curled his lip before he turned back to the unconscious elf.

Her beauty, which would have entranced any mortal man, held no charm for him. He confirmed that the stone was gone, then retrieved his horse from its hiding place among the trees. After tying the elf onto the saddle, he mounted the charger and made his way out of the woods.

He quenched the fires in his path but left the rest to burn.

* * *

 **So. This is another new story. Yup. Don't hate me, I'm just really bad at staying focused. I'm surprised I lasted so long on GCW. Don't worry, neither are on hiatus, it's just that I won't be writing as often for them. Sorry.**


	2. Chapter 2

**To the guest who is already screaming plagiarism: you do realize that absolutely** _ **zero**_ **fanfictions are original ideas, right? Through the** _ **actual**_ **definition of plagiarism, this entire site is plagiarism. Yes, I understand that I am pulling pretty much word for word, however 1: it will not stay like that for long; and 2: I'm literally about to quote** _ **word for word**_ **that copyright thing the Senate did and I was literally going to credit them** _ **already**_ **in this chapter. Finally: If you're going to say something like "that's plagiarism" on anyone's fanfiction, please have the balls, ovaries, or apache attack helicopter missiles to make an account and sign in so I don't have to yell at** _ **one**_ **guest in a massive ass A/N at the beginning of a chapter. Now, with the citing:**

 **All rights to the Inheritance cycle; and it's characters, languages, locations, and diction; go to Christopher Paolini, the greatest fantasy writer ever.**

 **All rights to RWBY and the characters therein go to Monty Oum, God Rest his Soul, and Rooster Teeth.**

 **In its most general sense, a fair use is any copyright or copyrighted material done for a "transformative" purpose, such as to comment, criticize, or** _ **parody**_ **of a copyrighted work. Such uses can be done without permission from the copyrighted owner.**

 **So basically, as Starbomb once said to Nintendo, I love you Chris. Thanks for not suing me.**

 **Also, seriously dude, get an account.**

 **Oh, and Starbomb belongs to EgoRaptor and NinjaSexParty, aka Ninja Bryan and DannySexBang.**

 **And once again I would like to reiterate that this story** _ **will not, under any circumstances, remain the same as Eragon Verbatim.**_ **Anyways, so sorry I yelled at you all.**

*W*Y ****

Ruby knelt in a bed of trampled reed grass and scanned the tracks with a practiced eye. The prints told her that the deer had been in the meadow only a half-hour before. Soon they would bed down. Her target, a small doe with a pronounced limp in her left forefoot, was still with the herd. She was amazed the doe had made it so far without a wolf or bear catching her.

The sky was clear and dark, and a slight breeze stirred the air. A silvery cloud drifted over the mountains that surrounded him, it's edges glowing with ruddy light cast from the harvest moon cradled between two peaks. Streams flowed down the mountains from stolid glaciers and glistening snowpacks. A brooding mist crept along the valleys floor, almost thick enough to obscure her feet.

Ruby was fifteen, less than a year from womanhood. Dark eyebrows rested above her intense silver eyes. Her clothes were worn from work. A hunting knife with a bone handle was sheathed at her belt, and a buckskin tube protected her yew bow from the mist. She carried a wood-frame pack.

The deer had led her deep into the Spine, a range of untamed mountains that extended up and down the land of Alagaësia. Strange tales and men often came down from those mountains, usually biding ill. Despite that, Ruby did not fear the Spine – she was the only huntress near Patch who dared track game into its craggy recesses.

It was the third night of the hunt, and her food was half gone. If she did not fell the doe, she would be forced to return home empty-handed. Her family needed the meat for the rapidly approaching winter and could not afford to buy it in Patch.

Ruby stood with quiet assurance in the dusky moonlight, then strode into the forest toward a Glenn where she was sure the deer would rest. The trees blocked the sky from view and cast feathery shadows on the ground. She looked at the tracks only occasionally; she knew the way.

At the glen, she strung her bow with a sure touch, then drew three arrows and nocked one, holding the others in her left hand. The moonlight revealed twenty or so motionless lumps where the deer lay in the grass. The doe she wanted was at the edge of the herd, her left forelegs stretched out awkwardly.

Ruby slowly crept closer, keeping the bow ready. All her work of the past three days had led to this moment. She took a last steadying breath and – an explosion shattered the night.

The herd bolted. Ruby lunged forward, racing through the grass as a fiery wind surged past her cheek. She slid to a stop and loosed an arrow at the bounding doe. I missed by a fingers breadth and hissed into darkness. She cursed and spun around, instinctively nocking another arrow.

Behind her, where the deer had been, soldered a large circle of grass and trees. Many of the Pines stood bare of their needles. The grass outside the charring was flattened. A wisp of smoke curled in the air, carrying a burnt smell. In the center of the blast radius lay a polished yellow stone. Mist snaked across the scorched area and swirled insubstantial tendrils over the stone.

Ruby watched for danger for several long minutes, but the only thing that moved was the mist. Cautiously, she released the tension from her bow and moved forward. Moonlight cast her in pale shadow as she stepped before the stone. She nudged it with an arrow, then jumped back. Nothing happened, so she warily picked it up.

Nature had never polished a stone as smooth as this one. It's flawless surface was bright yellow, except for thick veins of orange that spiderwebbed across it. The stone was cool and frictionless under her fingers, like hardened silk. Oval and about a foot long, it weighed several pounds, though it felt lighter than it should have.

Ruby found the stone both beautiful and frightening. _Where did it come from? Does it have a purpose?_ Then a more disturbing thought came to her: _was it sent here by accident, or am I meant to have it?_ If she had learned anything from the old stories, it was to treat magic, and those who used it, with great caution.

 _But what should I do with the stone_? It would be tiresome to carry, and there was a chance it was dangerous. It might be better to leave it behind. A flicker of indecision ran through her, and she almost dropped it, but something stayed her hand. _At the very least, it might pay for some food_ , she decided with a shrug, tucking the stone into her pack.

The glen was too exposed to make a safe camp, so she slipped back into the forest and spread her bed roll beneath the upturned roots of a fallen tree. After a cold dinner of bread and cheese, she wrapped herself in blankets and fell asleep, pondering what had occurred.

RW*Y ****

The sun rose the next morning with a glorious conflagration of pink and yellow. The air was fresh, sweet, and very cold. Ice edged the streams, and small pools were completely frozen over. After a breakfast of porridge, Ruby returned to the gen and examined the charred area. The morning light revealed no new details, so she started for home.

The rough game trail was faintly worn and, in places, nonexistent. Because it had been forged by animals, it often backtracked and took long detours. Yet for all its flaws, it was still the fastest way out of the mountains.

The Spine was one of the only places that Queen Salem could not call her own. Stories were still told about how half her army disappeared after marching into its ancient forest. A cloud of misfortune and bad luck seemed to hang over it. Though the trees grew tall and the sky shone brightly, few people could stay in the Spine long without suffering an accident. Ruby was one of those few – not through any particular gift, it seemed to her, but because of persistent vigilance and sharp reflexes. She had hiked in the mountains for years, yet she was still wary of them. Every time she thought they had surrendered their secrets, something happened to shake her understanding of them – like the stone's appearance.

She kept up a brisk pace, and the leagues steadily disappeared. In late evening she arrived at the edge of a precipitous ravine. The Anora River rushed by far below, heading to Palancar Valley. Gorged with hundreds of tiny streams, the river was a brute force, battling against the rocks and boulders that barred its way. A low rumble filled the air.

She camped in a thicket near the ravine and watched the moonrise before going to bed.

RW*Y ****

It grew colder over the next day and a half. Ruby traveled quickly and saw little of the wary wildlife. A bit past noon, she heard the Igualda Falls blanketing everything with the dull sound of a thousand splashes. The trail led him onto a moist slate outcropping, which the river sped past, flinging itself into empty air and down mossy cliffs.

Before her lay Palancar Valley, exposed like an unrolled map. The base of the Igualda Falls, more than a half-mile below, was the northernmost point in the valley. A little ways from the falls was Patch, a cluster of brown buildings. White smoke rose from the chimneys, defiant of the wilderness around it. At this height, farms were small square patches no bigger that the end of his finger. The land around them was tan or sandy, where dead grass swayed in the wind. The Anora River wound from the falls toward Palancar's southern end, reflecting great strips of sunlight. Far in the distance, it flowed past Therinsford and the lonely mountain Utgard. Beyond that, she only knew that it turned north and r to the sea.

After a pause, Ruby left the outcropping and started down the trail, grimacing at the descent. When she arrived at the bottom, soft dusk was creeping over everything, blurring colors and shapes into grey masses. Patch's lights shimmered nearby in the twilight; the houses cast long shadows. Aside from Therinsford, Patch was the only village in Palancar Valley. The settlement was secluded and surrounded by harsh, beautiful land. Few traveled here except merchants and trappers.

The village was composed of stout log buildings with low roofs – some thatched, others shingled. Smoke billowed from the chimneys, giving the air a woody smell. The buildings had wide porches where people gathered to talk and conduct business. Occasionally a window brightened as a candle or lamp was lit. Ruby heard men talking loudly in the evening while wives scurried to fetch their husbands, scolding them for being late.

Ruby wove her way between the houses to the butcher's shop, a broad, thick beamed building. Overhead, the chimney belched black smoke.

She pushed the door open. The spacious room was warm and well lit by a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. A bare counter stretched across the far side of the room. The floor was strewn with loose straw. Everything was scrupulously clean, as if the owner spent his leisure time digging in obscure crannies for miniscule pieces of filth. Behind the counter stood the butcher Sloan. A small man, he wore a cotton shirt and a long, bloodstained smock. An impressive array of knives swung from his belt. He had a sallow, pockmarked face, and his black eyes were suspicious. He polished the counter with a ragged cloth.

Sloan's mouth twisted as Ruby entered. "Well, the mighty huntress joins the rest of us mortals. How many did you bag this time?"

"None," was Ruby's curt reply. She had never liked Sloan. The butcher always treated her with disdain, as if she were something unclean. A widower, Sloan seemed to care for only one person – his daughter, Nora, on whom he doted.

"I'm amazed," said Sloan with affected astonishment. He turned his back on Ruby to scrape something off the wall. "And that's your reason for coming here?"

"Yes," admitted Ruby uncomfortably.

"If that's the case, let's see your money." Sloan tapped his fingers when Ruby shifter her feet and remained silent. "Come on – either you have it or you don't. Which is it?"

"I don't really have any money, but I do –"

"What, no money?" the butcher cut him off sharply. "And you expect to buy meat? Are the other merchants giving away their wares? Should I just hand you the goods without charge? Besides," he said abruptly, "it's late. Come back tomorrow with money. I'm closed for the day."

Ruby glared at him. "I can't wait until tomorrow, Sloan. It'll be worth your while, though; I found something to pay you with." She pulled out the stone with a flourish and set it gently on the scarred counter, where it gleamed with light from the dancing flames.

"Stole it is more likely," muttered Sloan, leaning forward with an interested expression.

Ignoring the comment, Ruby asked, "Will this be enough?"

Sloan picked up the stone and gauged its weight speculatively. He ran his hands over its smoothness and inspected the orange veins. With a calculating look, he set it down. "It's pretty, but how much is it worth?"

"I don't know," admitted Ruby, "but no one would have gone to the trouble of shaping it unless it had some value."

"Obviously," said Sloan with exaggerated patience. "But how much value? Since you don't know, I suggest you find a trader who does, or take my offer of three lien."

"That's a miser's bargain! It must be worth at least ten times that," protested Ruby. Three lien would not even buy enough meat to last a week.

Sloan shrugged. "If you don't like my offer, wait until the traders arrive. Either way, I'm tired of this conversation."

The traders were a nomadic group of merchants and entertainers who visited Patch every spring and winter. They bought whatever excess the villagers and local farmers had managed to grow or make, and sold what they needed to live throughout another year: seeds, animals, fabric, and supplies like salt and sugar.

But Ruby could not wait until they arrived; it could be a while, and her family needed the meat now. "Fine, I accept," she snapped.

"Good, I'll get you the meat. Not that it matters, but where did you find this?"

"Two nights ago in the Spine–"

"Get out!" demanded Sloan, pushing the stone away. He stomped furiously to the end of the counter and started scrubbing old bloodstains off a knife.

"Why?" asked Ruby. She drew the stone closer, as if to protect it from Sloan's wrath.

"I won't deal with anything you bring back from those damned mountains! Take your sorcerer's stone elsewhere." Sloan's hand suddenly slipped and he cut a finger on the knife, but he seemed not to notice. He continued to scrub, staining the blade with fresh blood.

"You refuse to sell to me!"

"Yes! Unless you pay with coins," Sloan growled, and hefted the knife, sidling away. "Go, before I make you!"

The door behind them slammed open. Ruby whirled around, ready for more trouble. In stomped Ghira Belladonna, a hulking man. Sloan's daughter, Nora – a tall girl of sixteen – trailed behind him with a determined expression. Ruby was surprised to see her; she usually absented herself from any arguments inviting her father. Sloan glanced at them warily, then started to accuse Ruby. "He won't–"

"Quiet," announced Ghira in a rumbling voice, cracking his knuckles at the same time. He was Patch's smith, as his thick neck and scarred leather apron attested. His powerful arms were bare to the elbow; a great expanse of hairy muscular chest was visible through the top of his shirt. A black beard, carelessly trimmed, roiled and knotted like his jaw muscles. "Sloan, what have you done now?"

"Nothing." He gave Ruby a murderous gaze, then spat, This… _girl_ came in here and started badgering me. I asked her to leave, but she won't budge. I even threatened her and she still ignored me!" Sloan seemed to shrink as he looked at Ghira.

"Is this true?" demanded the smith.

"No!" replied Ruby. "I offered this stone as payment for some meat, and he accepted it. When I told him I'd found it in the Spine, he refused to even touch it. What difference does it make where it comes from?"

Ghira looked at the stone curiously, then returned his attention to the butcher. "Why won't you trade with her, Sloan? I've no love for the spine myself, but if it's a question of the stone's worth, I'll back it with my own money."

The question hung in the air for a moment. Then Sloan liked his lips and said, "This is my own store. I can do whatever I want."

Nora stepped out from behind Ghira and tossed back her auburn hair like a spray of molten copper. "Father, Ruby _is_ willing to pay. Give him the meat, and then we can have supper."

Sloan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Go back to the house; this is none of your business…. I said _go_!" Nora's face hardened, then she marched out of the room with a stiff back.

Ruby watched with disapproval but dared not interfere. Ghira tugged at his beard before saying reproachfully, "Fine, you can deal with me. What were you going to get, Ruby?" His voice reverberated through the room.

"As much as I could."

Ghira pulled out a purse and counted out a pile of coins. "Give me your best roasts and steaks. Make sure that it's enough to fill Ruby's pack." The butcher hesitated, his gaze darting between Ghira and Ruby. "Not selling to me would be a very bad idea," stated Ghira.

Glowering venomously, Sloan slipped into the back room. A frenzy of chopping, wrapping, and low cursing reached them. After several uncomfortable minutes, he returned with an armful of wrapped meat. His face was expressionless as he accepted Ghira's money, then proceeded to clean his knife, pretending that they were not there.

Ghira scooped up the meat and walked outside. Ruby hurried behind him, carrying her pack and the stone. The crisp night air rolled over their faces, refreshing after the stuffy shop.

"Thank you, Ghira. Uncle Qrow will be pleased."

Ghira laughed quietly. "Don't thank me. I've wanted to do that for a long time. Sloan's a vicious troublemaker; it does him good to be humbled. Nora heard what was happening and ran to fetch me. Good thing I came – the two of you were almost at blows. Unfortunately, I doubt he'll serve you or any of your family the next time you go in there, even if you do have coins."

"Why did he explode like that? We've never been friendly, but he's always taken our money. And I've never seen him treat Nora that way," said Ruby, opening the top of the pack.

Ghira shrugged. "Ask your uncle. He knows more about it than I do."

Ruby stuffed the meat into her pack. "Well, now I have one more reason to hurry home… to solve this mystery. Here, this is rightfully yours." She proffered the stone.

Ghira chuckled. "No, you keep your strange rock. As for payment, Sun plans to leave for Feinster next spring. He wants to become a master smith, and I'm going to need an assistant. You can come and work off the debt on your spare days."

Ruby bowed slightly, delighted. Ghira had two sons, Sun and Neptune, both of whom worked in his forge. Taking ones place was a generous offer. "Again, thank you! I look forward to working with you." She was glad that there was a way for her to pay Ghira. Her uncle would never accept charity. Then Ruby remembered what her cousin had told her before she had left on the hunt. "Ren wanted me to give Nora a message, but since I can't, can you get it to her?"

"Of course."

"He wants her to know that he'll come into town as soon as the merchants arrive and that he will see her then."

"That all?"

Ruby was slightly embarrassed. "No, he also wants her to know that she is the most beautiful girl he has ever seen and that he thinks of nothing else."

Ghira face broke into a broad grin, and he winked at Ruby. "Getting serious, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir." Ruby answered with a quick smile. "Could you also give her my thanks? It was nice of her to stand up to her father for me. I hope that she isn't punished for it. Ren would be furious if I got her into trouble."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Sloan doesn't know that she called me, so I doubt he'll be too hard on her. Before you go, will you sup with us?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. Qrow is expecting me," said Ruby, tying off the top of the pack. She hoisted it onto her back and started down the road, raising her hand in farewell.

The meat slowed her down, but she was eager to be home, and renewed vigor filled her steps. The village ended abruptly, and she left it's warm lights behind. The pearlescent moon peeked over the mountains, bathing the land in a ghostly reflection of daylight. Everything looked bleached and flat.

Near the end of her journey, she turned off the road, which continued south. A simple path led straight through waist-high grass and up a knoll, almost hidden by the shadows of protective elm trees. She crested the hill and saw a gentle light shining from her home.

The house had a shingled roof and a brick chimney. Eaves hung over the whitewashed walls, shadowing the ground below. One side of the enclosed porch was filled with split wood, ready for the fire. A jumble of farm tools cluttered the other side.

The house had been abandoned for half a century when they moved in after Qrow's wife, Winter, died. It was ten miles from Patch, farther than anyone else's. People considered the distance dangerous because the family could not rely on help from tillage in times of trouble, but Ruby's uncle would not listen.

A hundred feet from the house, in a dull-colored barn, lived two horses – Burka and Brugh – with chickens and a cow. Sometimes there was also a pig, but they had been unable to afford one this year. A wagon sat wedged between the stalls. On the edge of their fields, a thick line of trees traced along the Anora River.

She saw a light move behind the window as she wearily reached the porch. "Uncle, it's Ruby. Let me in." A small shutter slid back for a second, then the door swung inward.

Qrow stood with his hand on the door. His worn clothes hung on him like rags on a stick frame. A lean, hungry face with intense red eyes geared out from under greying hair. He looked like a man who had been partly mummified before it was discovered that he was still alive. "Ren's sleeping," was his answer to Ruby's inquiring glance.

A lantern flickered on a table so old that the grain stood up in tiny ridges like a giant fingerprint. Near a woodstove were rows of cooking utensils tacked to the wall with homemade nails. A second door opened to the rest of the house. The floor was made of boards polished smooth by years of tramping feet.

Ruby pulled off her pack and took out the meat. "What's this? Did you buy meat? Where did you get the money?" asked her uncle harshly as he saw the wrapped packages.

Ruby took a breath before answering. "No, Ghira bought it for us."

"You let him pay for it? I told you before, I won't beg for our food. If we can't feed ourselves, we might as well move into town. Before you can turn around twice, they'll be sending us used clothes and asking if well be able to get through the winter." Qrow's face paled with anger.

"I didn't accept charity," snapped Ruby. "Ghira agreed to let me work off the debt this spring. He needs someone to help him because Sun is going away."

"And where will you get the time to work for him? Are you going to ignore all the things that need to be done here?" asked Qrow, forcing his voice down.

Ruby hung her bow and quiver on hooks beside the front door. "I don't know how I'll do it," she said irritably. "Besides, I found something that could be worth some money." She set the stone on the table.

Qrow bowed over it: the hungry look on his face became ravenous, and his fingers move with a strange twitch. "You found this in the Spine?"

"Yes," said Ruby. She explained what had happened. "And to make matters worse, I lost my best arrow. I'll have to make more before long." They stared at the stone in the near darkness.

"How was the weather?" asked her uncle, lifting the stone. His hands tightened around it like he was afraid it would suddenly disappear.

"Cold," Ruby replied. "It didn't snow, but it froze each night."

Qrow looked worried by the news. "Tomorrow you'll have to help Ren finish harvesting the barley. If we can get the squash picked, too, the frost won't bother us." He passed the stone to Ruby. "Here, keep it. When the traders come, we'll find out what it's worth. Selling it is probably the best thing to do. The less we're involved with magic, the better…. Why did Ghira pay for the meat?"

It took only a moment for Ruby to explain her predicament with Sloan. "I just don't understand what angered him so."

Qrow shrugged. "Sloan's wife, Ismira, went over the Igualda Falls a year before you were brought here. He hasn't been near the Spine since, nor had anything to do with it. But that's no reason to refuse payment. I think he wanted to give you trouble."

Ruby swayed blearily and said, "It's good to be back." Qrow's eyes softened, and he nodded. Ruby stumbled into her room, pushed the stone under her bed, then fell onto the mattress. _Home_. For the first time since before the hunt, she relaxed completely as sleep overtook her.

RW*Y *N*R

 **Alright, this thing is long. Anyways, thanks to everyone who is already on board with this. To those inheritance cycle mega fans who have noticed that this is following nearly word for word; it will not do that the entire time. For one, certain characters will be very different from their inheritance counterparts. For another, I can already think of 4 scenes I want to change. Also, Blake isn't Ghira's kid in this. She has a more important role. But anyway, I've digressed. Glad you all enjoyed!**


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